


Week

by Milosflaca



Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: M/M, Other, Post Holy Wars, Saint Seiya - Freeform, Sanctuary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-09
Updated: 2011-04-09
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:13:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milosflaca/pseuds/Milosflaca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A week in the Sanctuary turns out to be the most revealing experience for both Milo and Hyoga, especially when someone who wasn't expected suddenly returns to their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Toffee](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Toffee).



> **Warning: contains explicit sex scenes and strong language...**
> 
> This fic was writtten for the SeSa Challenge (2009). The SeSa is a yearly event  
> where you basically write or draw something for a recipient (whatever he or she  
> requests). Last year I got Toffee (yes THE Toffee) as my recipient. I have to say I  
> was both thrilled and VERY scared. I've never written Yaoi and I have to add I dislike  
> it profundly. Nevertheless I had a blast writing this. It was all in all a challenge and  
> I'm happy in the end she liked it :D (see me dance). Many thanks to Joe and Adalisa  
> who beta read this :)

_“Only when we are not afraid do we begin to live”  
_   
_Dorothy Thomson_

 **  
**

The gravestone was gone.

Milo hurried his pace, climbing the Crysateos hill as fast as he could, where the remains of the Gold Saints fallen in the 12 Temple battle had rested undisturbed for the past eleven months.

“That’s odd,” he whispered to himself, squinting his eyes and craning his neck as far as he could, in order to get a better view of the top where Camus’s gravestone was supposed to be. 

“It was here last week,” he said, annoyed. He turned around to see the path that had lead him there, which forked into two different, uneven roads; One led to the main area of the Sanctuary, where the Dypilon Gate and the Agora was and the other, to the temples and the training grounds.

For a moment he thought he had taken a wrong turn to the Nekrofrateria, since lately all the main roads that interconnected the many places of the Holy Land were nothing but messy paths. Now it was easy reaching the Nekrofrateria from behind, instead of from the main entrance which was blocked with a pile of rubble. Nothing seemed to have been left alone in Athena’s plan of bringing the Holy Land into the modern world.

He sighed, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by all the changes. While he appreciated his Goddess’s wishes to start anew after Saga’s cruel dictatorship, Milo thought that she was going all high wire about it.; pushing everyone to the limit to have everything ready for the Panathenaea festivities, that were taking place, just six days from that day.

He continued climbing quickly, searching his mind trying to remember all the changes that Athena had ordered. As far as he knew the Nekrofrateria was staying put.

He looked both ways, trying to find any clue as to why his best friend’s graving mark wasn’t there, trying not to panic. The other gravestones, Aphrodite’s, Death Mask’s, Saga’s and Shura’s were still there, placed one after the other all the way up. Their neat formation was interrupted before reaching the top, by two foot soldiers who stood there in a casual way.

“I told you to get rid of that,” One of the soldiers said, annoyed.  “It smells awful.”

“Well, it wouldn’t have if you had actually done your job quickly, and _carefully_ as we were told. Besides it doesn’t smell as bad as it did an hour ago...”

Milo would have ignored them if it wasn’t because of the huge shovel that one of them was carrying. The other one was holding something that he could not identify at first sight, as the man was standing with his back to him.

The soldier holding the shovel didn’t answer, shoving the tool down in a way that told Milo that he was tired of the task. His shovel dug deep into the ground with a loud sound.

Milo didn't know why two low rank soldiers dared to carry shovels inside the Nekofrateria.

Nobody was allowed to do this, especially on the Crysateos. It was the final resting place of the highest ranking members of the order, who as a last gift for their services had a magic seal placed on top of their chests, that prevented their bodies from rotting, preserving their remains beautiful and untouched for all eternity.

Opening a grave meant breaking the seal, if one was not careful enough. If the shovel _hit_ the wrong spot, it would cause the body to decompose in a matter of minutes, which would mean the ultimate insult, not only to the deceased but to the order as well; the punishment for this desecration was death.

For that reason every exhumation had to be supervised by the Pope or by Athena herself,  carried out, by the most experienced staff, so that the whole procedure was done quickly and if needed, the seal replaced instantly.

Only godless looters would risk opening a Gold Saint’s grave because they were filled with countless treasures: Golden shields, silver embossed vases carrying the crest of Athena’s armies on their sides and hand crafted weapons that were richly decorated; all of which could be easily sold on the black market in Athens.

During Saga’s reign looting had become a customary practice, an easy way to get cash for the poorest inhabitants and, since it was on the outskirts of the sanctuary and thus the most accessible area, the Crysateos became the instant jackpot of all the Holy Land.

Milo knew that little by little treasures that belonged to former Gold Saints had disappeared from their graves and had reappeared in houses of collectors and, ironically, even in local museums. At the end, fear of death hadn’t been enough to deter the most desperate looters. People would risk everything to enter the Nekrofrateria and reach the hill. Even the very same foot soldiers that were appointed to patrol the premises, were known to be the ones that looted the tombs freely and unpunished.

Milo crouched as soon as this thought registered on his brain and began to crawl towards them, covering his body behind a gravestone.  He wanted to have a better look at what was going on before he could decide what to do. Even if Camus’s gravestone was gone, and the two soldiers were carrying what could be ‘looting equipment’ there was still the slightest possibility that the gravestone had been removed for repair.  Still, there were no signs of Mu or Athena near the area, and as protocol dictated, they should’ve been there, supervising any procedure.

The situation looked awfully suspicious. But if he was right and those soldiers were looters, there was no chance in Hades they would get out of there alive.

 _They sure had picked the wrong graveyard to loot._

“Well, excuse me your highness,” the soldier finally retorted with a mocking tone. “It’s not like I’m a professional at this... And I don’t know why you are still carrying _that_ with your bare hands. It’s disgusting, man...”

“I was told to keep everything,” the other one defended himself, turning in Milo’s direction,. The Scorpio Saint instantly ducked his head to be out of sight. “The shield, the shroud, even this box.”

Milo’s eyes opened wide when the soldier shook a small wooden box.

He had placed it in Camus’s grave before he had been lowered down into the earth. It contained two objects that were of no value to anyone, except for the former Aquarius’s saint. In his life time, they were the only belongings that he had held dear.

“People sure put all kind of crap with their dead... Just look at this,” the soldier said moving the box with disdain. The objects that were inside, rattled from one side to the other.  “I mean, this doesn’t look at all like a grave of a Gold Saint. I thought this would have coins as protocol dictates, but it doesn’t. Only useless trinkets.”

“I hear ya!” The shovel soldier nodded, kneeling down, picking something round that shone when the sun hit its surface. “Even the oboli that was placed on his mouth wasn’t even a current coin. Whoever placed the payment for the Aquarius Saint, must have thought that Charon was an idiot or something.”

They laughed, but Milo paid no attention to them as he had finally spotted Camus’s grave stone far past the shovel soldier, tossed aside as if it didn’t deserve any respect.

Milo’s blood began to boil.

His eyes went to the one that was carrying his friend’s mortuary belongings, who had been flipping the oboli in the air before shoving the shroud into a garbage bag.

And it was not the obvious disrespect to Camus’s shroud what incensed Milo, but the casual way in which Camus’s belongings had been treated. The oboli in particular had been placed by Milo himself on his friend’s lips.  His friend had given him the coin a long time ago when they had first come to the Sanctuary as a small loan for candy.

Milo had never bought the candy or returned the money, as Camus said he didn’t need it. The coin was not current when Camus died, but Milo thought it would be a small a token to commemorate their friendship in the afterlife.

“The only thing that has any value is the shield. I wonder how anyone manages to sell these things on the black market, It’s not as if they are easy to carry out of the Sanctuary...”

Milo saw how the shovel soldier picked up the golden shield off of the floor and lifted it with difficultly above his head. It shone beautifully as the sunlight hit its surface where the Aquarius crest was embossed on it. The sight sent shivers down his back, making his heart shrink for a moment.

It didn’t matter if almost a year had gone by since the passing of his friend. He still could remember everything as if it had been yesterday.  The procession, the burial, the few people that mourned Camus’s passing over such a futile battle.

It had been a moving ceremony, when Mu held the shield up high, before placing it on top of Camu’s chest, identifying him for eternity as one of Athena’s Gold saints.

Milo hadn’t been sure that he could identify _that_ body as his friend.

Camus had looked so pale. Milo had always thought that describing a dead body as a mere ‘shell” was an exaggeration, just a metaphor to help one self to cope with what was going on, but it had turned out, that it was the most fitting word to describe the flesh that had been left behind.

All that Camus had been was long gone, and Milo had known just by looking at the body, when he was making his way up to face Saga, at Athena’s chambers, when the battle had ended.

It was all that was left for him. For the living. First an empty body and now a grave.

“I know,” the soldier answered, bringing Milo back to reality. “I don’t even know how we are going to carry it out of here! If only we could melt it, it’d be easier.... Besides all this gold could be put to some use, Don’t you think?”

“Melt it?” the other soldier added with a mocking tone. “Man, you are unbelievable! I really think, you should shut up. Someone is going to hear us.”

“Come on...!” the man answered between laughs while the other one turned around to see over his shoulder to check that they were alone. “I will shut up, but you _know_ I do have a point, or would you want to hang it on your wall, as a little reminder of what it represents?”

“Nice to know you’ve never been to a museum.”

Both of them laughed, but Milo paid no attention. He felt something snapping inside of his mind.

It had been enough.

Looters or no looters, he had had _enough_.

“Fuckers...” he said in a whisper, standing up with bloody murder in his eyes.

In a swift movement, Milo jumped the gravestone in front of him and got ready to fight. One of the soldiers noticed him and opened his mouth to say something, but it was too late for explanations.

“What the hell...?” the soldier exclaimed, making the other one turn, who in an attempt of running away, tripped over, throwing the oboli and the box into the air. Milo caught up both items in midair, and grabbed the nearest soldier by the neck, who squealed like a pig.

He was going to enjoy this.

“Wait...” the soldier said between gasps, while he tried to make Milo let him go before his neck snapped.

“Shut the fuck up!”

Milo’s eyes went straight to look for the body, but the grave was empty. And not only there was no sign that Athena or Mu having been there, but to make things worse, his nostrils detected a slight odor in the air, already fading away, as if something had gone rotten, hours ago.

 _Oh please, don’t let it be Camus..._

Now it was time to panic.

“Where the hell is the body?” he asked with his teeth clenched in anger, flaring his cosmos as a warning.

“Please, let go of him” the soldier holding the shield begged, not backing down. The gesture only made Milo angrier.

“How dare you?” Milo said in a hiss, squeezing harder. “You’d better answer me, because you are next on my list.”

“The... body... is... with...Lady Athena...” the one on his grasp answered with tears already falling from his eyes. He was blue due the lack of air in his lungs. Milo was sure he was going to pass out any minute now. “They told us...the Aquarius... Saint....will live again...please... let... me... go...”

Milo narrowed his eyes, and turned around to verify if what he had been told was true.  The Soldier nodded with a terrified expression in his eyes, while his hairy hands went up and down the edges of the shield, nervously.

“He’s telling the truth Sir,” the man answered, now addressing him as protocol dictated. “He’ll be brought back in the upcoming Panathenaea festivities. We were just sent here to pick up the remains of the burial.”

Milo thought it was a joke. It sure sounded like one. It was then when he heard footsteps approaching the top.

He turned around to meet Shaina and two men climbing up the hill. He didn’t recognize either of the men, but both wore the black capes that identify them as part of Athena’s staff, the Skabo, who among other things were in charge of dealing with every ritual that concerned the dead, and who could prepare a body that had been long dead for a successful resurrection.

Milo loosened his grip on the soldier, who fell down to the ground, coughing for air.

He didn’t wait for Shaina to reach the top of the hill. The presence of the Skabo, indicated that it was all true anyway, so he climbed down from the Crysateos and hurried up his step towards the path that led to the 12 temples.

 _The Aquarius Saint will live again..._

Those words haunted him. Even when he knew such things were possible in this place, he could not force himself to believe it.

The day that Camus died had been the darkest moment of his life. He could still remember his friend’s cosmos fading away into the night, barely reaching him in an unspoken goodbye.

Milo had known that day would come. They both were warriors and their life was not theirs to spend. Still, he had never thought that Camus would fall the way he did: by teaching a last lesson to his student. A lesson that had nothing to do with the war that had almost destroyed the Order.

That was the reason why, Milo had pleaded to Athena to reconsider Camus’s case. Seeing how all the bronze saints that had fought on her side had been brought back to life, gave him a little hope. Maybe not everything was lost. He was sure that when he explained Camus’s true feelings about the battle, the Aquarius Saint would be granted with a second chance.

But he had been wrong.

Athena said she would consider it, but at first dismissed his request, as there had been far too many important things to attend to, like the foretold coming of Hades, which the order was not prepared for. There was too much to do before thinking about bringing back someone who, in Athena’s eyes, even if he had been loyal, had put his personal decisions before the Order’s needs.

Milo had been crushed. Before Camus came along, he didn’t know if he was ever going to become a Gold Saint, and now that he had died, he wasn’t very sure he would be able to go on.  As to what had changed Athena’s heart, he didn’t know, but it was something that he was not going to question. After all, Camus _was_ coming back and that was all that mattered.

Many men and women had asked what they would do if they had a second chance with the people that had passed away. A question with no possible answer as death was something that one could not undo. But now that he had been granted with that opportunity, nothing could go wrong from now on.

He pressed the box slightly to his body, thinking about all the things he would be able to do, in all the things he would be able mostly, to continue once his friend was alive again.

When he reached the 12 temples entrance, he made a turn and headed to his temple.

He gave a sprint and started to jump, to shorten the long distance and in a matter of minutes he was at his doorstep.

The entrance of the Scorpius temple looked somber. In other times it had made a great view against the clear blue skies of Greece. Now it looked mangled, worse than it had looked when it had been partially destroyed during his last battle, due to all the scaffolds that had been raised against the main facade of the building, for about a month now. There were buckets of paint, wide brushes and a ridiculous amount of plastic, some of which had already been spread wide through out the main hall, indicating that his temple had been scheduled for painting.

Milo rolled his eyes, cursing for a moment that Lady Athena was not a wide bellied pirate with little understanding of interior decoration. He was tired of seeing his home turned upside down on behalf of what could be regarded as a party. It indicated him that the period of turmoil that had cast a shadow over them for the past 13 years, just wasn’t over yet.

He sighed, leaning against one of the pillars, shaking his head and trying to focus on what was important now: Camus’s return.

 _Yes, that was all that matters now,_ he thought with a smile on his lips and walked to one side of the temple where the marble floor ended and the cliffs began. He stopped right on the edge and stared below where the training grounds were and Milo couldn’t help to acknowledge how far he had come.

He and Camus used to sit on this very spot to stare at the training grounds, with a grin on their mouths, reminiscing old times when they both were fighting their way to the top, to the very houses in which they sat on so grandiosely as Gold Saints.

It was Milo’s favorite spot, and way before the war, when Camus was far away in Siberia, he would walk there, and stare to his friend’s temple, that had been a safe spot where he could shelter himself when the cloth became a duty too heavy to bear. 

But it had been long since he had done this.

The Aquarius temple had been empty for quite a while and now instead of a shelter to which he can count on regardless, it had become an immovable reminder of what he no longer possessed.  When he stared at it, he saw what it lacked: the master that should’ve been staring back at him in the distance, just as Camus’s body was missing a soul that was meant to connect to his.

He’d tried not to forget their tradition just to keep things normal, but after a couple of days, he soon realized that he could not go on pretending that everything was as before, because it just wasn’t. And if he was to move on, he would have to put the past behind him.

And so the cliffs became off limits and the grass and the weed that in other times had been nicely trimmed and kept and bay, now ran freely within all the crevices of the marble.

What would Camus say if he saw the placed where they used to hang out so untidy? What would his friend say if he knew how hard it had been for him to be without him?

Probably he would disregard the whole thing, branding it as childish. After all, they were warriors, were they not? Personal lives, he would say, were not important, only their duty.

And that’s why Milo was still here, carrying on, despite his loss.

The order had done the same, rebuilding his temple to all it’s glory, as soon as all the dead were buried, covering the past with each layer of paint. Life, after all goes on.

Milo let his head fall into his hands and started to laugh, softly. Out of nervousness, more than anything else. This was unbelievable.

 _The Aquarius Saint will live again..._

The words echoed in his mind.

 _The Aquarius Saint Will live again..._

“Oh Camus....you lucky son of a bitch...”

“Oh, so you know?”

Milo turned around to find Hyoga staring at him. He was wearing only jeans, carrying on his hands two six packs of beer.

“I just found out this morning. Cool, uh?”

Milo couldn’t say anything. He was absorbed in the image of Camus's student, who despite coming to the Sanctuary as a treacherous rebel, had risen to become one of the most powerful warriors in the Order, earning the Aquarius Cloth in the process.

He had grown to become a confident and attractive young man, with fine features that were framed by his golden mane that now ran to his middle back.

 _Hyoga, The Aquarius saint..._

Milo closed his eyes briefly, feeling suddenly dizzy. Even if the Skabo successfully resurrected his friend, they would be bringing back only that: a friend, because the Aquarius saint was already there, _in front of him_ , looking at him with a calm expression set in his clear blue eyes.

“Yes, I found out this morning on my weekly visit to his grave,” Milo said, trying to conceal his shock for the little epiphany he had just by looking at him. “I thought someone had looted his grave, go figure...”

“I did, actually,” the Russian said, leaning on one of the columns. “ I figured no one had told you. That’s why I went to look for you, to warn you, but you’d already left, so...”

Milo looked to the ground biting his lip. He didn’t know what to say. The previous happiness of the moment was leaving him, his feelings of joy replaced by something that resembled shame. Of having dismissed Hyoga on behalf of his best friend.

They remained silent for a couple of minutes, until Hyoga turned around, with the intention of leaving.

“I was on my way to tell you...” Milo said, almost blurting out the words, making Hyoga stop on his tracks.

Of course, he was lying . He now knew, just by looking at Hyoga, that he wouldn’t be able to tell him.

In other times, the news would have come as a breath of fresh air for both. Milo had been mourning and Hyoga had had to take too many responsibilities. Camus’s presence would surely have been the perfect medicine for both of them.

But Camus _hadn’t_ been there. He had died, leaving an unsolvable dilemma that had become an unexpected beginning. It had been the perfect catalyst for empathy, for trust, for friendship, and later on, an unsaid invitation for both of them to explore something beyond the limits of friendship.

Now the former solution to their problems, was if anything, a bucket of cold water.  At least, it felt like that for Milo.

There was no need to deny that Hyoga had only been here, because Camus hadn’t. Milo couldn't help but to wonder if they would have connected the way they did, if his friend had been alive. Probably not in the intimate way they had done. Still, speculating about things that weren’t wasn't important now, it was a waste of time.  The reality was that they both had committed to each other, stretching out their arms in order to form a bridge which would lessen the distance between their two worlds.

The result had been a relationship so deep and meaningful, that just wouldn't be fair, or easy, to disregard.

But if Camus came back, would the relationship continue to go on unchanged?

Milo didn't know how Hyoga felt about it though, but even when he knew where he was standing, he could already feel that the news alone had formed an invisible barrier between them.

“No need... I was the first to know, because of you know... obvious reasons.” Hyoga answered him, with a smile set on his lips.

“Yes, of course” he said, swallowing hard.

It was Hyoga’s turn to nod, before he turned around and slowly began to walk out of the temple.

Milo gave a few steps, with the intention of following him. He lifted his hand as if trying to reach Hyoga. He wanted to tell him nothing would change between them, even if Camus became part of the picture now, but he stopped midway. After all who was he trying to fool? Of course things would change.

They already had.


	2. Tuesday

Hyoga sat down using the remains of a column as an improvised bench.

The gates of the Sanctuary stood in front of him, where several soldiers ran back and forth very attentive to all the military vehicles that arrived one after another, carrying all sorts of items for the upcoming celebration. Above, the scorching sun was at its zenith, letting Hyoga known that it was 12 o’clock already.

He knew he should be playing the role that protocol demanded; running errands for Athena, taking part on every ritual that was compulsory for the high ranked members of the order, but he just wanted to take a break.

Thankfully Saori had let him have his way, and so he retreated to the entrance of the Holy Land, where he could see the city of Athens  and be with himself, if only for a little  while. He could only think about Camus. In fact that was the only thought that occupied his mind, ever since Saori had told the news to him.

His teacher, and all that he represented, terrified him.

Camus had been cold and strict, a man so unreachable who above all despised human emotions because he regarded them as a weakness. A weakness that Hyoga had as his main trait, and that he couldn’t get rid of, no matter how hard his teacher had tried to strip him of it.

For that reason alone his teacher had bullied him, never leaving an inch open to show that he cared about him beyond training, to the point that Hyoga couldn’t help but to wonder if the man in front of him was in fact human at all.

Hyoga now realized that this last conclusion was childish.  After all, now that he was an adult, he understood that Camus had been committed to his craft, to train the perfect warrior.

But back then, that assumption had been taken literally. Camus _must_ _have_ come from outer space and Hyoga would sometimes observe his teacher with the corner of his eye, trying to figure him out, thinking that at some point he would be able to break the ice, and be treated with the same considerations as Isaac.

That never happened though.

Once, during a local country fair, Camus had allowed both of them to go to it, as training had been interrupted by a good unexpected weather and ice was running so thin that neither of them could use the surroundings to practice their lessons.

He and Isaac had returned late at night, to find their teacher sitting on a chair near the chimney reading. Hyoga had bought a small tin toy that had cost a few rubles, that for some reason despite its misshapen form, had reminded him of his teacher.  The small toy was an abstract and childish representation of the ice warriors, whom the town’s people had in high regard due to the peace and justice they had brought along with the order  to the far edges of Siberia.

Hyoga had thought the gift was perfect for his teacher and he had bought it with hopes that Camus would see the gesture as a sign of the admiration that he had for him. Camus  had accepted the gift, but he had lectured him about how irresponsible it had been, to spent his money on something useless. Hyoga had told him as an excuse that he had been reminded of him, but the explanation only made his teacher angrier and ended up leaving both of them alone in the living room to make dinner for themselves.

That was the way things were with the former Aquarius Saint. And that’s how they remained even after Hyoga had gained his armor, because as soon as the training was done  Camus had gone  back to Greece, to continue with his life. A life that was cut short on behalf of a lesson, which raised Hyoga as the master of ice and as the ideal substitute for a person that he did not quite like or understand.

It was true that the image of his teacher softened, during their battle. Camus, after all, had been the father that he had never had, and the conscience that for so long prevented him from falling into the abyss. For that, Hyoga had let his heart open in the last minute, telling Camus what he hadn’t been able while he had been by his side: that he was grateful to him and regretted the way things had turned out.

Nevertheless there was this other side of his teacher that conveyed what he feared the most, because his detachment from everyone and everything around only showed how trivial and purposeless Hyoga’s life had been up until that moment. And _that_ scared the hell out of him.

Even if Camus had been right and he had Hyoga figured out, the young man didn’t want to face that again. Not now, not ever.

And now that he was the Aquarius Saint, he couldn’t help but wonder  how his teacher was going to take the news. Camus himself had told him that he was not fit for the cloth, when Isaac had died. It didn’t matter if he had been appointed to be the bearer. It was clear to him that his teacher would not be impressed with that.

Layers of metal would not make a damned difference to the person who was wearing them, because despite the experiences that he had had as the Cygnus Saint, he still was all too emotional.

Hyoga sighed heavily, looking down at the ground. This was getting too complicated by the minute.

“Greeting, Aquarius Gold Saint,”

He lifted his head, to meet Shun who was bowing in front of him in mock reverence, carrying the Andromeda cloth on his back. Hyoga rolled his eyes.

It was the last thing he needed, to be addressed as that, as it sent shivers down his back because it inevitably reminded him of what he would have to face in less than a week.

Still, he offered his brother a smile. It had been quite a while since he had seen Shun and his presence brought a distraction to his problems. It was better to play it cool as his brother, despite his happy go-lucky attitude, had proven to be bad ass when he was angry. It was better to follow his lead and let him have his way.

“Hi, Andromeda Saint. What is the most powerful, and _beautiful_ saint doing in the Holy Land?” Hyoga answered, without being able to restrain himself.

“I get the powerful, but beautiful?” Shun said frowning, putting his finger on his cheek.

“Well,” Hyoga answered, with an amused tone in his voice. “Since Misty is dead and you killed Aphrodite...” 

Shun only rolled his eyes, and smiled “If you say so...To answer your question, I came for the festivities. Saori invited me, you know. I thought she had told you about it, Seiya and the others are coming as well...”

“Is that so?” Hyoga asked, standing up to face his friend who was wearing jeans and a flowery shirt, as if he was just a mere tourist that had strayed off the path, and not a Saint of Athena.  Now that Shun had been relieved from his post, he looked weird carrying his cloth on his back. It simply looked out of place.

“Yes. I thought you were here waiting for me...” Shun answered, amicably as usual.

“Sorry to disappoint, you my friend,” he answered, with a crooked mischievous smile. “But I was taking a break from duty.”

“Well, since you are here. Would you mind helping me with my bags?”

Shun pointed to three heavy bags that were next to him. Hyoga just raised an eyebrow. The bags looked heavy as hell, with bumps coming out all over the surface as if the things inside of them had been crammed with force.

“Do you expect me to carry that?” it was Hyoga’s turn to point at the bags. “I’m not your lackey, you know?”

“No, but you are my brother,” Shun answered, matter of factly, offering an innocent smile. And you owe me, I saved your life risking mine remember?”

“You are never letting that go, are you?”

“Nop...” Shun said lifting a finger. “Besides Ikki said that as the youngest, I’m your responsibility so you have to help me. What if I get bruised on my way up?”

It was Hyoga’s turn to roll his eyes. There was no chance that Shun could get bruised carrying a bunch of bags, nevertheless, his brother stared at him with his eyes wide open, and his face set with the cutest of looks.

“Damn it, Shun. But you can’t use this against me again. Not while you are here.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” His brother answered, jumping a little. “Shiryu, Ikki and Seiya are coming too. So just don’t tell them that I already used this on you and we’re even.”

“Unless you are bringing a piano, I don’t think that’s much of a consolation for me, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t be such a lazy bones!” Shun retorted, picking up a bag by the handle and offering it to him “It’s not like it’s going to kill you anyway, and besides we can have a nice conversation in our way up, which we haven’t had for a long time...”

Hyoga did as he was told, carrying two of the suitcases. Shun grabbed the third one, and a portable easel that had been standing behind him, and they both made their way up to the stairs towards Saori’s private chambers while they caught up about their lives.

“What the hell are you carrying, Shun? Rocks?” Hyoga asked, half panting, when they reached the inner hall of his temple.

“Just my painting materials,” Shun answered, while putting the case of his armor down next to him, along with the easel that rattled heavily as soon as it touched the marble floor. “I forgot to tell you, but now that you brought it up, I was chosen to do an exhibit in Germany during September. I was hoping you could come.”

Hyoga smiled upon hearing this. Of all the bronze saints, Shun had been the most successful on moving on after the war, making the most of his days as a civilian. He sure had come back whenever Saori needed him, just like he had done now, for the festivities, but duty itself was something that he had long ago put behind. Now he was a rising promising landscape artist, who had a future that wouldn’t be tarnished by war, at the grasp of his hands.  And Hyoga couldn’t help but to envy him a little for that.

He had never been able to stray off the path that had been given to him, because he knew that straying of, led to destruction.

It was true that all of the Kido siblings, had been forced into sainthood. But it was also true that some of them had remained there because they had found a purpose through it. Shiryu and Seiya were the perfect example of this, and neither of them had wanted any life beyond the walls of the Sanctuary, not because they were shortsighted but because they saw in their duty the noblest of ways in which to conduct their lives.

For Hyoga however, being a Saint meant going back to his mother. To the world that had ended when she had died, and he had felt nothing but loneliness without a direction to go from there. If he had been given a choice, he would have rather drowned alongside his mother, so that all that pain would have ended forever. But Sainthood had brought him closer to his mother and to the path that he had so abruptly lost when he had been only five years old.

Now he realized he had lied to himself, because no matter how strong or good a Saint he became, he would not be able to bring his mother back. Still he had denied this for a while, killing several people due to his stubbornness.

That had been no path at all, and even if Camus had tried to teach him that, giving Hyoga a chance to find a different way to live, he could not reach his hand out to fully embrace it because he wanted to stick to the past. Just as he was doing now as a saint of Aquarius, in which he was honoring old orders that would distance him from the new.

Hyoga was not only tied to his past, he was also afraid of change. He didn’t know how to handle it.

“You are very brave Shun,” he said, walking besides him. “I’m very proud of you”

Hyoga hugged him and Shun tensed a bit in his embrace. Then after a couple of seconds his brother returned the gesture, placing his arms around him, holding him tight.

“I’m proud of you too, you know? All of us are.” Shun said, breaking their embrace. Hyoga looked at him, with a sad expression set on his face.

While he appreciated the comment, he didn’t understand why everybody kept regarding the possession of the Gold Cloth as something to be proud of. It was his just because the former owner had forfeited his right with his death.

“Well, yeah...” Hyoga answered, scratching his head, diverting his eyes to a wall.

“Hey,” Shun said, looking directly at him while touching Hyoga’s head forcing him to face him. “Look how far you’ve gone Hyoga... You _are_ the Aquarius Saint, and that’s something to be proud of, right?”

“Yeah, of course” he answered batting his hand, laughing a little and lying completely about his true feelings. “But is not that big a deal...”

Being the Aquarius saint only showed how things remained the same. He had just accepted it because Saori had asked him as a friend. He couldn’t have cared less about the post.

If they only knew...

Shun closed the distance on him. Now their faces were inches apart.

“Isn’t it?” his brother asked again, fixing his gaze on him and pronouncing all the words carefully as if he was addressing a child.

“No,” Hyoga answered truthfully this time, with a dry tone in his voice, remembering the box which contained the cloth which was now hidden in his closet. “I haven’t even worn the armor yet, you know?”

Shun just looked to the floor, apparently not knowing what to say. Maybe having taken the hint that Hyoga felt uncomfortable around that subject.

“Well, all in good time, Hyoga. All in good time,”

“Yeah” Hyoga said, tilting his head. “Although I don’t know how to feel about it. He is coming back you know?”

“He who?” Shun asked, confused.

“Camus,” Hyoga answered with a tired tone in his voice. He had though that the news would shock his brother, considering that he had already show him, if only briefly, how conflicted he felt about his post. But on the contrary, Shun smiled widely and hugged him.

“That’s so perfect!” he exclaimed and Hyoga had to give a few steps back not to fall over with Shun on top. “I knew Saori would reconsider...I bet Milo is also beaming with joy.”

Hyoga’s body tensed as soon as Shun uttered Milo’s name.

Yesterday when he had looked at him, the Scorpio Saint had a weird expression on his face, and Hyoga couldn’t help but to feel that Milo had forgotten him completely because of the news. It had been as if Milo didn’t know who he was when he had looked at him.

 “What do you think...?” he finally answered returning back to reality, with a hint of disappointment in his voice. “They were best friends, remember...?”

Shun pressed his lips tight, evidently noticing things had gone sour while Hyoga tried his hardest to recollect himself.

“Don’t worry, I know things will stay the same between you and him...”

Hyoga diverted his eyes again, blushing a little. Of course things would never be the same between him and Milo.

Over the last months they had developed a relationship that had started as a consequence of Camus’s death.  Friendship and curiosity from Hyoga’s part had ended as something that could be labeled as an affair.

Back then, when both of them started to hit it off as friends, the rest of the bronze saints had objected to the experiment. They knew Hyoga was vulnerable, and would cling to anyone who could be somehow related to his past. They were very aware of this, and they advised him not to be open with Milo, who besides of being his teacher’s best friend, had one of the _worst_ reputations at the Holy Land.

He had done otherwise in an attempt to understand Camus and change himself.

Hyoga knew that Milo, as the best friend of his teacher would broaden the picture not only of the cold man, but that of his years as a trainee and set him free somehow.

But Milo had done more than that, talking his ears out with endless anecdotes about life beyond the Sanctuary. Stories that involved women, men and missions that varied from duty to personal affairs.

Hyoga ended up truly admiring Milo for who he was. He was a Saint, yes, but also a man in all the complete sense of the word, who had experimented all paths in life without fearing the outcome. Without fearing what was in front of him. He was so much more than the cruel killer for hire, or the crazy sex-driven bisexual that everyone thought he was.

Milo was, in many ways, the voice that came from inside Hyoga.   A voice that he was never able to hear and which with Milo by his side, he was starting to decipher.

Up until then, Hyoga had no clue about the world that laid beyond the Order, but through Milo he was able to have a taste of it, without risking much. And so kisses and caresses became a habit between them and though they never crossed the line to become lovers, Hyoga knew he was enjoying the game which increased in level every now and then, and forced him to go up a notch to test himself.

It had highlighted a new path for him. He had allowed himself to fantasize that Milo would be always there. Their friendship, after all was strong, something that Hyoga was happy to have in this new stage of his life. But with Camus’s returning, there was no knowing what could happen.

It would be petty of him to say that Camus would force him to give things up. After all, Camus had been Milo’s friend up until the moment he had died. But how would his teacher feel about a relationship that went _beyond_ friendship? More over, how would Milo feel about Hyoga, when that gap of friendship in which the role of confident had been played by him during the last months was restored by the presence of his true friend?

Hyoga smiled, looking to the floor. There were so many things that they said they would do, but they never did for being so caught in filling the void that Camus had left for better or for worse in his lives. Even if he didn’t love Milo, he wanted to know him better and now he was running out of time...

“Hyoga?” Shun asked, bringing him back to reality. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah,” Hyoga answered, faking a smile. “I know that Milo cares about me, but you know... My teacher... I mean Camus will always be his best friend... And I wouldn’t want to be the third wheel.”

“He befriended you for a reason, Hyoga. Camus can’t give him everything, you know?”

Hyoga sighed feeling, overwhelmed and conflicted by the comment. Still his brother was right. There were some things that Camus could not give to Milo.


	3. Wednesday

It was late at night when Milo could finally sit down.

All day long he’d been running errands on account of Camus, purchasing things that he thought his friend would need when he returned.

Before him, on a small wooden table that occupied the center of his small kitchen, lay several bags that contained canned goods, garments and the most important of all, several books. Camus had a liking for reading being this his one and only hobby. It had led him to collect a ridiculous amount of books, all of which had been stored, along with most of his possessions, in a warehouse at the outskirts of the Sanctuary.

Milo wasn’t sure if the authors he had gotten were any good, but at least he believed he had seen some of the names that were printed on the covers in Camus’s personal library. This would keep him busy until they could get all of their stuff back.

The oboli and the box still remained untouched on the countertop of his kitchen and he walked towards it to open it for the very first time. He lifted the box carefully and placed it on top of the table, pushing all the bags aside.

The box made a loud creak as it was being open, and Milo softened his grip on the lid so as not to break it. There, inside, were two objects that were no bigger than his palm, wrapped in linen which was partially covered by cemetery dirt.

Milo brushed off the dirt carefully with his fingertips and smiled briefly, wondering  how he would give them back to Camus.

He couldn’t ponder a lot in the subject, as someone knocked at his door.

Milo turned around to check the clock that was hanged on the wall. The watch hands indicated that it was 11:00 p.m already. A little too late for anyone to be paying visits, especially to a temple of a Gold Saint.

“Who is it?” he asked, frowning, while wondering why the person at his doorstep didn’t announced himself or herself through cosmos as tradition demanded.

“It’s me, Shaina. Can I come in?”

Milo smiled upon hearing Shaina’s soft voice on the other side of his door. Of all the people he knew at the Sanctuary, besides Camus or Hyoga, she had been always a very good friend, whom  he had dated in his early years as a trainee, or, to be more specific, slept with in more than one occasion. She was one of the few people around the Sanctuary whom Milo trusted blindly and thus he let her do as she wanted, whenever she visited his temple.

“Sure, it’s open,” he said, returning his attention to the oboli and the box, which he closed and placed in one of the pantries as Shaina was entering the room.

She was carrying a huge round object wrapped around in linen, that had on top of it a thin longer one covered as well, with the same type of clothing.  They could barely fit through the door, so Milo hurried to help her.

“Thank you,” she said, putting both the items on top of the table, while he started to take some of the bags off it, setting them on the floor to make some more room.

“What is that?” Milo asked looking at the massive objects that now occupied his table.

Shaina didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she grabbed a chair by the back support and set it against the doorknob. Milo lifted an eyebrow not really sure as to why his friend was doing that. Then Shaina removed her mask.

“The door has a safety button, Shaina” he said half amused, walking towards the door and pressing the little golden button that was on the center of the doorknob.

There had been a time where they had to lock the entrances using chairs, but now, the new doors worked perfectly well.

Shaina looked at him annoyed, and Milo knew just by her expression alone, that she was mentally cursing their Goddess as well for all the changes around the Sanctuary.

“Anyway,” Shaina said, grabbing the chair that she had previously set against the door to sit down. “I came to bring you  Camus’s shield and sword.”

Milo instantly turned to see the objects that just two days ago he had thought were being stolen by foot soldiers. “Uhm... I thought Athena was going to give these to him during the festivities...”

“Well, you know,” She retorted, scratching her head. “The thing is, that after you left the Crysateos hill; and by the way I’m terribly sorry for what the idiots under my charge did. They shouldn’t have been so disrespectful, the morons...”

“Well yes, they shouldn’t have,” Milo interrupted her, grabbing a chair as well and sitting down with the back rest facing to his chest. “But it’s not your fault.”

Shaina nodded and continued. “Whatever. After I interrogated them about what had happened, they mentioned something about how creepy it was for a recently resurrected person to have his mortuary belongings lying around, and well... I think they have point, so I went to talk to Athena and she told me you would have a better idea as to what to do with these.”

It was Milo’s turn to nod, even when he wasn’t sure what to do with them either.

The soldiers, even with their disrespect for his friend _did_ have a point. Even if he knew Camus as much as he did, there was no way of knowing how he would react around those objects. It was not as if this was an everyday situation for him either.

“Well, I will go tomorrow to talk with Athena about it,” he answered, but Shaina just shook her head in a negative gesture.

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea Milo. She’s already tying herself into a human pretzel trying to figure out what to do with two Aquarius Saints. We thought you might know, since you were Camus’s closest friend.”

“Two Aquarius saints?” Milo asked bewildered, disregarding completely the rest of Shaina’s words. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well I don’t know...” Shaina said, sarcastically. “Camus and Hyoga, perhaps? Or did you forget again about Hyoga, Milo?”

Milo made a face as soon as Shaina’s dry and unnecessary comment registered on him. _Of course_ he remembered Hyoga. He was just asking about the issue of the two Aquarius saints because Athena had anticipated his thoughts. Just this very morning, when he had seen Hyoga in her chambers, he had thought about the same issue.

Camus _had been_ the Aquarius saint, and he had been buried with the medals that identified him as such, supposedly for all eternity. Even if logic dictated that he couldn’t be presented with what was part of his mortuary belongings, Athena just couldn’t give out the former Aquarius saint war medals to the current person that was filling the position. Not only because it was disrespectful but because Hyoga was not dead yet.

“Of course I haven’t forgot about him!” he exclaimed, defending himself. It was true that just two days ago he had forgot completely about him, due to the great news, but this wasn’t something that would become a habit. “Who do you take me for?”

“I’m watching you, mister...” Shaina, answered, pointing at him with a stern look on her face. “It’s not nice to shag someone and later on dismiss him just because your best friend is coming back.”

“I’m not shagging Hyoga, Shaina,” Milo said, feeling offended. “It’s true there have been some things going on between us, but sex, I can assure you, it’s not one of them...”

She looked at him with suspicion. It was clear that she did not believe him.

“I’m telling you the truth,” he said again, this time leaning a bit towards her, with his eyes open as if this would make things clearer. Shaina crossed her arms and leaned back on  her chair. A gesture too well known for Milo that indicated that she was definitely, _not_ believing him.

“What?” Milo asked, opening his arms dramatically. “I’m telling you the truth!”

Shaina laughed out load. “Well, I find _tha_ t hard to believe. Especially because I know how hard is for _you_ to restrain yourself, when you are _in love_ with someone...”

Milo’s eyes widened even more as soon as he heard her. What was that woman talking about? The feelings that he had for Hyoga were beyond a mere friendship, but he was sure that they couldn’t be interpreted as love ...

He opened his mouth to say something, but she lifted her hand, making him shut up.

“The thing is,” Shaina began, while standing up. “Even if you accept it or not, you guys are already running out of time and...”

Milo tried to protest, but she pressed her index finger on his lips, forcing him to remain quiet.

“And,” she raised her voice a notch. “People tend to do stupid things when they feel they are being rushed and I wouldn’t want to see you or Hyoga for that matter, to get hurt only because Camus is coming back to your lives...”

Milo sighed diverting his eyes. This time he really weighed Shaina’s words.

The day when he had heard the news, Hyoga had acted differently, leaving his temple as soon as the conversation had ended, when in other times he would have lingered to talk about his day or even stay to spend the night with him.

Now Hyoga didn’t even stay to talk to him after the morning rituals were done.

Things were certainly changing fast between them.  And even when he had looked for him before he had gone to Athens to buy what he needed, Hyoga had refused to accompany him, telling him as an excuse that he needed to prepare something for Athena. Milo wasn’t sure what it was, but surely it had been something of the utmost importance, as Hyoga had slammed the door shut in front of his face.

Milo folded his arms on top on the back rest of the chair, placing his chin on top of them and sighed heavily, feeling sad.

He had thought that Shaina’s remark was an exaggeration, but she was right. _The clock had started to tick for them_ , and with Hyoga holding back, there was no telling how things would end.

Milo closed his eyes feeling very depressed. Things didn’t have to be like this.

He didn’t have to see this as an ending because it was just a new beginning. Not only for him, for both of them.

Even so, he understood that there were going to be some things that they wouldn’t be able to do once his friend was back, not because Camus would frown upon them but because they might not have a reason to do them.

All he could think of now was that if he had had the chance, he would want have wanted to explore something beyond what he already had with Hyoga. He would have wanted to know him for whom he really was, beyond the Saint, beyond just Camus’s pupil.  He would have wanted to strip him of his last defenses, to see Hyoga’s true self.

Before Shaina came, Milo had never thought about it. But now that he had been presented with the possibility, the thought of all what he was going to possibly lose, sent him over the edge.

“I’m sorry to be the one breaking the news to you Milo...” she said apologizing. Milo turned around to see her, offering her a smile and Shaina ran her fingers through his blue mane. “But I think you ought to be careful about this. Especially because I don’t think you know what Hyoga wants.”

Milo looked at her puzzled. “Sorry, but I don’t follow...”

“Yes,” she said. “It’s no secret Hyoga doesn’t know what he wants. I know that you have feelings for him and all, but even if  Camus wasn’t coming back I don’t think it would be a great idea pursuing something with him. Other than friendship, I mean.”

“Excuse me, Shaina,” Milo said, pushing her aside to stand up. “I really don’t think you know what you _mean_. Hyoga is _very_ different from the guy you knew back in Japan”

“Oh Milo... Please!” She exclaimed putting one of her hands on her waist. “How blind are you?”

Milo stared at Shaina with murder written across his blue eyes. “He’s changed.”

Shaina didn’t say anything, taking the hint that he was already getting mad.

He couldn’t blame her for her worries though. It was true that when Milo had first heard about Hyoga, Camus had described him as a self centered child. With little understanding of the responsibility he had before him, who instead of committing to training only kept crying over his dead mother.

Years later Hyoga’s attitude hadn’t changed that much. He still was a whiny little bastard. Milo had seen his friend Camus worrying to death about his former pupil, an attitude that Hyoga  later on had described as mere ‘hurt pride’. Camus had failed, according to Hyoga, to turn him into a warrior under his tutorship.

Camus would never accept defeat in front of a fellow saint.

 _Better to kill one’s student by one’s hand, rather than seeing other people punishing my own failures._

When Milo had finally met Hyoga, he had seen a petty and shortsighted child, who thought Camus and everyone else were against him. Milo didn’t know about everyone, and wouldn’t want to speculate about them, but as far as Camus was concerned, he knew his friend had been worried sick about Hyoga, trying his hardest to preserve his life. Not only because he had been his pupil but because he cared enough about him and didn’t want him to die.

It was true that most teachers at the Sanctuary followed the rule of the ‘survival of the strongest’, but Camus was not one of them. He followed an slightly different code from that of the Holy Land. For Camus, pupils were among other things valuable assets that should be nurtured to perfection.

Of course, there were a lot of things that Milo had to sort out in front of the Cygnus Saint, regarding his friend’s attitude. Hyoga after all, had experienced Camus’s all too overwhelming presence through the eyes of a child, and had no real context for his teacher’s actions, as an adult.

Milo had never gone as far as to explain everything concerning Camus’s life, but he took his time to tell him how proud Camus had been of him,  succeeding at least in making Hyoga understand a little more of his master’s action.

And thanks to that, Hyoga accepted the post of the Aquarius Saint. A true testament of how much he had changed through understanding and perseverance. The insecure little man was gone, and Milo knew it. He had spent hours in the past eleventh months with that man, who knew what he wanted in life. Who knew what he was aiming for.

Shaina knew squat about it. It was true that Milo didn’t knew if  Hyoga was in the same place as him, but stating that he was still immature after all what he had gone through, was a bit disrespectful and Milo just wouldn’t take it.

“Well...” Shaina added, standing up and going to pick up her mask. “Be as it may Milo, I just hope you don’t do something stupid, o.k?”

“O.k” Milo answered with a dry tone, leaning against his countertop. Shaina headed to the door, stopping just a few inches from it. Then she turned around and walked back to him.

“I know ‘what ifs’ are always a mind buster Milo... But don’t give into them. I know that you might think that you’ll regret it, if you don’t do things while you have the chance. But sometimes it’s better to leave it alone.”

Shaina left after that, leaving Milo to ponder her words.


	4. Thursday

It was late, almost 7:00 in the evening.

Hyoga stood up from his bed and walked towards the kitchen that had its entrance right next to his room. There, he sat down on a small stool near his table, and stared at the floor.

 _Sex_ , he thought with a crooked a smile.

That was what he could give Milo, that Camus couldn’t.

But Hyoga had never slept with a man before.

All his experiences, as uneventful as they were, had been with women. Eris had been the first one, a pretty blond girl that worked with Miho in the orphanage, where Seiya and his sister grew at. Back then, he had seen no purpose in dating but Seiya had, and it hadn’t been a problem for the Pegasus Saint to convince him to date Miho’s friend, just to be able to double date.

In the end Hyoga had said yes, because the girl was pretty and she brought promises of something more than just innocent kisses. Nevertheless, despite all the sweaty encounters he had never been able to fall in love with her and as soon as Seiya had realized that his place was with Saori and not with Miho, he had broken up with Eris, avoiding the subject of dating for a couple of months.

There had been others after Eris of course, but the experience he had, couldn’t be compared to Milo’s.

He was the love expert of the Sanctuary. Well versed in the ways of love making, who had already a thousand marks all over his body, left not only by his victims who had been seduced to death but by lovers as well. Several men and women who, according to Milo, had trained him into perfection, shaping him to be an absolute master in the art of sex.

Hyoga was sure he would be the one impressed and not the other way around.

He looked over his shoulder. With the corner of his eye he saw lying on the foot of his bed his teacher’s shield and sword which Milo had come earlier to hand over to him.

Milo had been puzzled as to what to do with the two items that had belonged to his teacher when he had been dead. Mortuary belongings were after all, for the dead, and not for the living.

But Hyoga wasn’t sure what to do with them either.

It was true, as Milo had pointed out to him, that there was a possibility that Camus wouldn’t want to have reminders of the time when he had been dead lying around as mere ornaments; but that didn’t mean Hyoga wanted to keep them either. Even if he was now filling the position of the Aquarius Saint.

The two of them carried both items to his bed and when they lowered them down to the floor next to it, Milo’s hand accidentally had touched his, making Hyoga tense up.

All morning he had been thinking in what made him different to his teacher, pondering in the daring prospect of having sex with him. And now Milo had come to his house...

Yet the bringing of the shield and the sword was nothing but a reaffirmation that the world was adjusting itself to its previous order.

Was there even a need to have sex at all?

Hyoga had diverted his eyes instantly, feeling like retreating to a corner.

 _(What is wrong Hyoga?)_

Milo had noticed his sudden change in attitude. It was no secret that Hyoga was withdrawing more with each passing day.  However he wasn’t able to fake out a excuse, because as soon as Milo uttered the question, he went over to him and hugged him.

 _(Don’t worry. I know this is a little bit hard to process, but  everything will be fine... I promise.)_

Hyoga  wasn’t so sure about that and he couldn’t restrain himself from offering Milo a sad look. _They were running out of time..._

Milo’s eyes had widened when he finally explained this to him, but as soon as the words had left Hyoga’s mouth in a whisper, Milo disregarded the comment completely.

 _(Don’t be silly Hyoga, things don’t have to be like that! We’ll have plenty of time to be together....)_

Hyoga had laughed, pushing him aside. There would be plenty of time, yes.

For Camus and for Milo to bond again. But for them?  There would only be leftovers of brief moments, and their relationship would never feel as free as it did now. Even now Camus’s presence hovered on both their lives as an unexpected guest, and he wasn’t even here yet.

 _Things would change whether Milo accepted it or not._

And Hyoga didn’t want to think about missed opportunities. About ‘What ifs’.

He had spent his whole life like that. There was no doubt that he wanted to give his all to the Scorpio saint, who had been the only person that truly ever got him. Who accepted him as he was and who would, above all, surely receive happily what he had to offer.

An ultimate connection that Camus, as a friend, would never be able to provide, and would remain as an everlasting bond between them.

It was now or never.

 _(Hyoga... I don’t want to do this for the wrong reasons...Just because we might think it’s our only chance and get out of it...nothing more than just ‘sex’!)_

Hyoga could hear Milo shuffling his body under the covers on his bed. The three-hour session had been a revelation to him, in which Milo had taken him expertly, as expected.

It was true that Hyoga didn’t have anything to compare this experience with, after all he had only slept with girls in which the sex had been pretty standard. However the minute Milo had laid hands on him, he had become nothing but an instrument to which the Scorpio saint already knew all the proper notes to get divine music out of it.

Hyoga had never felt his body experiencing so many things at one go.

He had thought that having sex with a man would be quicker and awkward. If anything, a primeval satisfaction completed just by the act of dominating an equal, but it hadn’t been like that at all.

On the contrary Milo had taken his time with each kiss and caress he delivered, leaving nothing to chance and everything to show him how special he was for him.

And it was stupid, now that he thought of it, even to consider _this_ as an advantage as it was plain obvious considering with whom he was sleeping, but Milo had known in advance where everything _was_. There were no bumps, no periods of adjustment where even him would feel without a clue as to where to touch or put it, like he had felt every time he started to sleep with a girl.  This time Hyoga knew were he wanted to be touched and therefore where Milo wanted it as well.

Hyoga was not even sure he would be able to sleep with women again.

However, he had come to the realization that there wasn’t anything more than that.

Like Milo had said it, it had been just sex, nothing more than just a pleasurable experience. He was grateful that Milo had taken him the way he did. Even if it was clear that the whole thing was costing him his life and he wasn’t really sure if he was going to be able to stand on his word.

Hyoga tilted his head back, sighing heavily and staring at the ceiling. He had hoped to find something else, beyond establishing a bond. Maybe feelings or a place where he could belong forever after this. A new path. But there hadn’t been anything like that.  Just closure.

It was just an ending, sweetened by sex.

 _(Hyoga, I...)_

Right after they finished, Milo had looked at him with such an expression that made Hyoga freeze instantly. Milo had swallowed and looked to the mattress as if he was trying to tell him something and couldn’t get it out.

Eris once looked at him with those eyes, half choking because she was trying to tell him that she was in love with him.

Hyoga laughed and his voiced echoed in the kitchen.

It was not as if Milo would tell him that.


	5. Friday

It was almost noon when Milo arrived at the Aquarius temple.

Unlike the previous day, he was feeling very optimistic. Now that he had slept with Hyoga, hope had blossomed again.

Before that, Milo could not deny that he had thought his relationship with the former Cygnus Saint was doomed to come to an abrupt end as a direct consequence of a understandable fear of uncertainty created by Camus’s return.

But now everything had fallen into place. And even if Milo knew better than to trust sex as the absolute judging tool, there still remained the fact that they had done it in the Aquarius temple. This perhaps was the most important detail of  it, because it told Milo that Hyoga saw the building not as a fort where he had to execute his duties diligently, but as a _home_.

 _His home._

Camus’s return was just a minor detail, which would, if anything, even out the scales for everyone involved and maybe with time become a perfect glue for broken bonds, long lost after the war had ended.

And there would be plenty of time for that.

Milo smiled, feeling completely at ease.

Shaina had been wrong.  It was true that rushed actions could lead to disaster, but sometimes these were nothing but leaps of faith which could very well lead to paradise and understanding. And most of it all, to the conquest of fear.

It was true that he would have preferred to have intimacy with Hyoga in different circumstances; but considering the way things presented themselves, he couldn't allow himself to have any regrets whatsoever.

When Camus returned he would find not only the seed of a true warrior that he had planted long ago in Hyoga had finally bloomed, but also that the real person that was hiding within that just yesterday had emerged under Milo’s embrace to perfection.

“Hyoga?” Milo asked holding the mortuary box by his side, while walking through the immense hall that divided the circular shaped temple into two.

He was hoping to have a quick meeting with Hyoga, to discuss the contents of the box, which Milo had completely put aside favoring more urgent matters.

Once he reached the end of the hall, he turned left and looked for the gap on the floor that led to the basement, where the chambers of the Aquarius Saint were located.

Inside he could hear a lot of rumble going on. He wondered if Hyoga was cleaning since yesterday he had told him something about organizing his room to make it more presentable for the return of his teacher. All in the hope that Camus would keep his opinions to himself about the new decoration of his former chambers.

Milo had laughed of course, but he could not deny that compared to his friend, Hyoga was a little messy.

When Camus had been alive, his room had been impeccable; neatly arranged with shelves that went from floor to ceiling, surrounded with few pieces furniture.

Just a bed, a night table and a small desk.  The necessary items to get by, when he was at the Sanctuary.

Hyoga, however, had turned the room into a mess the minute he set a foot of it.

The shelves had been the first to go and all the books were packed for storage.  Although a few shelves stayed put Hyoga made sure to use them for long play racks, LPs people called them, and containers of other teenage objects to which Camus would surely have protested, if he had had the chance.

The furniture count also went to the roof, since the new teenage inhabitant had added a small sofa, an entertainment unit and an extra wardrobe for his clothes.  The ‘necessary’ items to get by now that he was staying at the Sanctuary.

Even if the plan was for Camus to stay at Athena’s chambers until he decided what to do with his life, there was no doubt that the room needed to be cleaned a little. Milo was certain that his friend would want to visit Hyoga’s room just to check on how his former pupil was doing now that he had been appointed to be the Aquarius Saint.

Milo began to climb down the stairs, noticing immediately that the door was pushed open by a set of boxes. All of them were labeled in Hyoga’s horrible handwriting which had the words ‘Books’ written all over the four sides with black ink.

Milo frowned, but continued going down. When he finally reached the end of the stairs,  he jumped over the boxes finding Hyoga wearing nothing but a pair of old jeans, surrounded by a pile of books which were neatly arranged by shape and size, stacked one after the other and going all the way up, almost matching his height.

“What are you doing?” he asked, amused, looking around.

He wasn’t very sure about what Hyoga understood by “reorganizing” or “cleaning”, but it sure as hell didn’t look as if he was doing either.

The room looked messier than ever with books spread all over the place and a bunch of boxes unfolded set against the foot of the bed.

“I’m just putting everything back where it was,” Hyoga answered not even looking at him, concentrated on the task of taking the dust of each book and then putting it back on the shelf.

Milo blinked feeling puzzled. “Everything back where it was? What do you mean by that?”

His eyes went to either side of the room. He saw Hyoga’s clothes all piled up on the bed that was still unmade. Next to them, his records were stacked forming a shaky tower that would surely fall to the floor in any minute.

Then he noticed in the corner of the room something that looked like two old suitcases...

“Yes,” Hyoga answered making Milo focus his attention on him. “You know... For the Aquarius saint... When he gets back.”

Milo closed his eyes swallowing hard.

Wha...?” he uttered shaking his head in disbelief.

 _Hyoga was... leaving?_

Quickly he started to jump every obstacle in front of him and went straight to where the ‘suitcases’ were.  He was hoping to be wrong, yet when he arrived to the center of the room , the suitcases were indeed _there_...

Milo stared at them not even knowing what to do, or what to make out of this. It just didn’t make any sense, even more so if he took into account what had happened between them yesterday; it was a precedent for the immediate future, showing to Hyoga that he was already a part of his life which he would not want to loose, despite Camus’ presence.

He bit his lower lip and swallowed again, not wanting to look at Hyoga who had stopped dusting off the books. Then he bent over and picked one big suitcase by its handle and when he lifted, the lid opened and all its contents fell to the floor.

Milo didn’t even try to catch them. Instead he just stared to the objects that were already packed.

He already could feel his pressure rising dangerously.

 _You son of a bitch..._

“You are _leaving_?” Milo asked turning, _really_ slowly to see Hyoga and stressing the last word with his teeth clenched.

Hyoga was looking directly at him with a serious yet daring expression set on his face, which only made Milo want to throw the damn suitcase at his face.

“Answer me, Hyoga! Are you leaving?“ he asked again this time yelling, throwing the suitcase aside, which such force that it collided with the night table that was on the opposite side of the room, breaking everything in its way.

“Well, yes,” Hyoga answered matter-of-factly, not even bothered by Milo’s outburst of anger. “There can’t be two Aquarius Saints, you know?”

“You fucking idiot!” Milo exclaimed, finally loosing it going towards him. Hyoga gave a few steps back but he couldn’t escape him as his back bumped against the shelves. “You _are_ the Aquarius Saint. What in Athena’s name are you talking about?”

“I think you know Milo... We both know,” Hyoga answered with a firm tone in his voice, untouched by Milo’s outburst. “It’s over. There is no reason for me being here.”

Milo gave a few steps back not wanting to believe what he was hearing. He lifted his free hand to rub his eyes, trying to regain some composure and calm himself down. But how could he? What Hyoga was saying was not only preposterous and childish, but also _incredibly stupid_.

He didn’t know where this was coming from. Now that Hyoga out ranked his teacher, he didn’t have a viable excuse for feeling threatened by him. If anyone had to leave, it should be Camus, who now had no official reason to stay on the premises. And it couldn’t be because of the sex either. Hyoga knew better than to think that the experience was  _just_   as a last minute operation, after all, it had been _the_ climax to their relationship.

True, Milo had hidden his growing feelings because it wasn’t the time or place to express them, especially considering how the situation had evolved. But even if he had, he was sure that Hyoga wouldn’t have appreciated being put into the spotlight.

After all they had come to this point because of Camus. Love was not precisely a determinating factor there.

Still, the question remained. Why was Hyoga _really_ leaving?

A sudden flash of thought crossed his mind, making him shiver to his very core.

Was Hyoga leaving because the presence of his former teacher alone brought something more that just an discomfort between them?

It was a possibility.

Milo didn’t have to be a freaking genius to realize that Camus was still a delicate subject for his former student. One just had to observe Hyoga to notice that the young man flinched every time the name of his teacher was brought up.

Certainly his arrival would only mean an ominous confrontation. Especially of Hyoga’s past. Still that past had been sorted out long ago, hadn’t it? Milo had seen to it, and even if it had left permanent scars on the Russian , it just shouldn’t matter anymore.

He was a different man now.

Unless, Hyoga had been only playing a role all along. Pretending to be mature, in front of him because that was what he had demanded of Hyoga as if it had been a requisite to stay by his side. Even going as far as to be the Aquarius saint only in word just because that was expected of him, when in fact he didn’t want it to be here at all! Maybe, Milo could only hope, in an attempt to truly become someone else, but never quite reaching his goal because of fear.

He closed his eyes feeling a knot in his stomach.

Camus’s arrival only meant for Hyoga the return of a dormant fear filled with unmatched expectations and rejection, with indecision and misery.

With a confrontation of who he was and would no longer be able hide.

And if that was the case, it only meant that Hyoga was not only leaving, he was _running away_.

“You fucking coward...” Milo said in a whisper.

“Don’t you dare to call me that!” Hyoga answered, narrowing his eyes. It was evident that he had pushed some dangerous buttons in him, but Milo was not intimidated. He was going to see this through.

“Well, that _is_ what you are. A coward,.” he said it again, this time pointing at him, placing his finger very close to Hyoga’s face, who instantly grabbed him by the hand in an attempt to make him back off. But Milo was not ready to get off his case. Not yet.

“You are leaving because you don’t want to face him, because you don’t want to face your past and your fears!”

“Really?” Hyoga asked with a mocking tone, sending Milo over the edge. “ You think you’d have me all figured out just because we slept together?”

Milo's eyes widened as soon as he registered the comment. He slammed the box on the shelf above Hyoga’s head, feeling like punching him. How dare he?

“No, I have you all figured out,” he began to say now with his face inches apart from Hyoga’s. “Because pathetic beings like you are easy to decipher. I don’t need to be a genius to know that you are running away because his return, is making you wet your pants.”

Hyoga diverted his eyes. His jaw was already set to a perfect square. It was evident he was about to lose it as well, but Milo continued. “This has _nothing_ to do with me, or with the post. Not even with the fact that we had both slept together yesterday. It only has to do with _you_ Hyoga and your fucking Athena damned inability to stand by your word!”

Hyoga tried to turn around to leave, but Milo pushed him against the shelves again, shaking the racks a little and making some of the books fell to the floor.

“Don’t you dare,” he threatened him, rising his voice to a dangerous level. “You are always blaming everyone around you for your ‘misfortune’, for the things that had happened. The death of your mom, your life as a saint.  And yes back then you had no control of what happened around you. But now, Hyoga? Now the only one to blame for what happens to you, is yourself! They are your decisions! They’re nobody’s business but _yours_!”

“Well, it’s not like I arrived here all on my own you know!” The Russian answered, yelling as well. “You are part of this too, Milo!”.

Milo laughed, grabbing Hyoga viciously by the chin. “Oh, yes, Hyoga, and I’ve never had denied my contribution to our little project, nor my desires or hopes for it to continue even with the presence of my friend. I am standing by my word. And unlike you, owning my decisions as I go on. No matter if they turn out to be the right choices or not.”

Hyoga was breathing heavily already, swallowing every few seconds, apparently on the verge of bursting out.

“So don’t try to play the victim, because it sure as hell ain’t gonna work with me. And don’t ever dare to imply that me or Camus had something to do with your departure, because even if I was involved with you, my friend doesn’t have to account for your indecision. Especially not for the decisions that you’ve made since he died.”

“It’s easy for you to say,” Hyoga finally opened his mouth in a hiss. “ But I am who I am, because of your _friend_.”

Milo narrowed his eyes not really caring for Hyoga’s spiteful tone. “I doubt it. You are who you are, because you _wanted_ it that way.”

“Do you think I wanted my life to be like this? Do you?” Hyoga banged his fists against the shelves finally losing composure. “Even if I get that he sacrificed himself to teach me a lesson and that he was all what I could take for a father, _you don’t know_ how it was living with him. How he was with me, how he treated me... berating me for daring to have feelings. How he ignored me and reminded me all the time, that the student that he had wanted was Isaac. For Camus I was only a cheap replacement, a disappointment. He was a fucking cold son of a...”

Hyoga couldn’t finish the sentence as he was smacked down by Milo’s fist, which landed on his nose, with a loud crack making him fall backwards on his butt.

“Shut the fuck up!” Milo yelled completely losing his composure. “You think life has been easy for either of us? For me? For your brothers? No Hyoga, you have brought this upon yourself because you are afraid. Afraid of trying something else beyond the path that the Order or that life itself has put in front of you. So stop blaming all of us for your fears. How many people need to sacrifice their lives for you to understand it? Stop recoiling and get over yourself!”

Hyoga looked at him with resentment in his eyes. His nose was bleeding heavily and he had to use both his hands to stop the blood from spilling all over his chest.

Milo sure knew he was crossing a line with him, meddling in things that didn’t quite concern him, but he just didn’t care anymore.  He was _done_ indulging him.

“I thought I had made Camus’s feelings clear to you Hyoga! And I thought you had changed because of it, but you are still the same whiny child! If you knew how much Camus cared for you, you’d go to his grave and kiss the soil into which he was buried. But don’t worry I won’t elaborate on it more as it is clear to me that you are just incapable of understanding.”

Hyoga started to stand up. It was evident to Milo that he was ready to hit him back, but before he was able to even lift himself up, Milo grabbed the box and opened it, fetching from the inside a small package carefully wrapped in a blue silk cloth, which he let fall on top of Hyoga’s lap.

“By the way” He said, looking at him sideways. “I came to give you this, because I thought you’d appreciate it... It belonged to Camus’s burial. You might recognize it.”

Between Hyoga’s legs there lay motionless, the little misshapen figure of an Ice Warrior. The one that he had given Camus during his training a long time ago, as a sign of admiration.

Hyoga reached out a trembling hand. As if he was afraid to be burnt by it. And probably he was. After all, the undeniable truth was in front of him. Camus had cared for him in his own private way. It was true that his friend’s methods for teaching had been a bit unorthodox, which could very well mistaken by mere bullying and contempt, when in fact all he had done was appealing to Hyoga’s strongest personality trait: his feelings to unleash his whole potential and thus preserving his life above his.

Milo turned around taking a last look at the room, feeling a mixture of nostalgia and anger, which he knew would define this chapter of his life.

With the corner of his eye, he caught the sight of the box that contained the Aquarius Cloth, partially covered by a mantle hidden in the closet as if was something to be ashamed of.

He shook his head, feeling like punching Hyoga again.

Instead he turned around to leave, picking the box and the little ice saint on his way out.

Shun was standing at the door frame, but Milo didn’t even say hello to him. He just began to climb up the stairs to get out of there.


	6. Saturday

“Hyoga?”

Shun’s voice made Hyoga turn around. Up until now he had been staring at the books, that were now neatly arranged on the shelves. Right after Milo had left, his brother had helped him to bind his nose and to clean up the mess. He had thought that Shun would say something about what he had witnessed, but he had held his peace, committing to the task at hand and leaving afterwards without saying anything but a friendly ‘good night’.

“Hi, Shun..” he greeted him, getting up from the bed and walking to his desk, where most of his clothes had been left folded into several piles, except for a few garments that still were undone. “What’s up?”

“I just came to see how you were. How’s the nose?”

“I’m fine, and the nose is healing. Thanks for asking.” He answered, taking one t-shirt and folding it neatly next to the others. Meanwhile Shun walked to his bed and he observed him with the corner of his eye as he lay down on his stomach to be more comfortable.

Truth to be told, not only was his nose healing, but also his heart.

The image of the small figure of the Ice Saint that he had given to Camus a long time ago was still fresh in his mind. He could not deny that he still felt a bit of bitterness towards his teacher, which he understood couldn’t be helped as one was supposed to resent their parents, even when the reasons behind their actions were always intended for a greater good.

Nevertheless having seen that he had kept such a trivial gift over all these years, symbolized physically what Milo had been telling him all along: Camus _had_ cared about him and deeply, and he had been nothing but unjust and petty to him.

Hyoga stayed up all night thinking about this.

He didn’t want to go as far as to literally sanctify his teacher’s attitude now that he had a better grasp of the truth, but he could not deny now, that all of his misery had come to a great extent from his inability to see Camus for what he was. His teacher was after all a human, as capable of making mistakes as himself and the thought of it somehow soothed him. Now he felt he would be able to finally connect to his teacher on another level where they would be equals, capable of confronting their misunderstandings as adults.

“By the way, I heard Shiryu and the others arrived this morning,” he continued, putting aside his thoughts. “I was hoping we could get together for dinner, What do you think?”

“Yeah,” Shun answered, amicable as usual. “That’ll be great. I’m not very sure that Ikki would go for it, but I bet Saori can convince him.”

Both of them laughed, and Hyoga placed his hand above the bridge of his nose to prevent it from moving. It still hurt a bit.

“Yes, she’s a hard case, isn’t she?” He said, this time walking to his closet putting the last of the misplaced items inside the closet, along with a bunch of books that didn’t fit on the shelves.

“Yes, that’s why I told her to never make friends with you! It’s contagious!” Shun said, making Hyoga turn around with a puzzled expression set on his face..

“What?” He said smiling, not really sure what his brother meant by that. Even if Shun was as plain as water as his comments were concerned, sometimes he was just hard to follow.

“I heard what Milo told you yesterday.” Shun said looking to the mattress. “I overheard you guys. I’m sorry.”

Hyoga blushed instantly. “Uhm... well. You don’t really need to apologize. I’m actually surprised that no one else but you had heard us. You know? With all the yelling and stuff.”

Shun only nodded, raising his eyebrows a bit with what Hyoga could only interpret as a matter of fact gesture, which only made him feel completely uncomfortable.

Milo had confronted him with the whole truth of who he was, and what he was hiding, which he knew at some point would be an inevitable outcome, considering. However he hadn’t expected his brother to hear it.

Shun had been, above all, the person who had been most supportive about everything he wanted to do. Being there from day one, first as a teammate and then assuming the role of a supportive sibling and friend. Shun had been open and honest about everything that concerned his life, never asking for anything other than to be treated with the same consideration. And now Hyoga had shown him that he didn’t. That he had kept secrets from him.

Now that Shun knew the truth, Hyoga couldn’t help but to feel a sudden urge to apologize to him.  At least, to explain his reasons behind his pretending, just to make him clear that despite everything, it was never his intention to hurt him.

“Shun, listen....” he began to say, while staring at the floor.  “I’m not proud of what happened yesterday, and I don’t expect you to forgive me considering that I was a bit deceptive in my actions. But I want you to know that I never meant to hurt any one, I was just... You know? Trying to sort out all this mess..”

He made a pause while Shun sat down again, this time on the edge of the bed, closing the distance between them.

“And yesterday, things got a bit out of hand between Milo and me...”

“Yes,” Shun said. “And by the looks of it, sleeping with Milo didn’t sort out things for you either, Right?”

Hyoga looked at him, with his jaw dropping already. He was certain Shun had arrived right after he had been punched by Milo. He shouldn’t even know about _this_. Unless of course he had been, as he’d pointed out, overhearing the whole conversation from a safe point at the stairs.

“How...?” Hyoga began to ask, giving him the benefit of the doubt. It was not like Shun to eavesdrop.

“Don’t sweat it Hyoga,” his brother said, sighing, this time standing up and going to him. “I kinda figured out by myself, you are not _that_ deceptive...”

Hyoga blushed again and pressed his lips tight, feeling all the more exposed.

“However,” Shun continued. “I never though you would do it with him only because Camus was coming back. I know that I told you that there were things that your former teacher couldn’t give Milo, but trust me, I wasn’t _really_ talking about sex...”

Hyoga swallowed hard, feeling like crap. It was true that he had wanted to have sex with Milo to be able to move on without regrets, to forget the uncertainty about his place in the world when Camus returned. But he had also done it because it fulfilled the role that Milo was expecting of him.

Sex had nothing to do with establishing a bond, because that, already existed and he had severed it with their fight, apparently forever.

Hyoga was certain that Milo would never speak to him again for this, and all he could think of was about Milo’s gaze, right after they had done it and on what he had wanted to tell him but couldn’t.

He would never be able to know it now.

He sighed heavily, lowering his head, running his fingers through his hair; he needed to change the subject fast. While Hyoga understood that his brother was trying to help him, he wasn’t quite ready to deal with that. At least, he had made his peace with his dead teacher. That had to be enough.

“There, there” his brother said, apparently noticing his turmoil as he hugged him tight, and stroked his back. “What’s done is done Hyoga, I just want you to realize that people won’t appreciate you for what you _give_ to them. They love you for who you _are_.”

He sighed again, this time more heavily while burying his head in Shun’s neck, feeling again like crying and he hated himself for it. He was, like Milo said, a whiny child...

“I’m sure Milo’s feelings wouldn’t have changed, even if you didn’t sleep with him....”

Hyoga began to laugh and then walked away from Shun. His eyes were already burning from the tears that threatened to come out.

“Oh please, Shun,” he said, turning around to see him.

“Milo didn’t like me for who I was. You heard him. He just liked who I was pretending to be... However hard I wish to be that guy, I am still afraid... I am...” Hyoga made a pause, closing his eyes. “I’m just a loser.”

“Don’t say that, Hyoga.”

“Well, look at me!” He yelled finally losing composure, pointing at himself in a violent way. “I wish I had the guts to confront everything, but I don’t! I’m not like you or like Milo who could move on and face the unknown with dignity and... ”

“I’m looking at you Hyoga.” His brother said, calmly, cutting his speech short. “I don’t see what the problem is. Being afraid is nothing to be ashamed of. You’d be a fool if you didn’t feel afraid of the unknown. You’d be an arrogant fool at that.  It’s just a matter of perspective and I can assure you that change is hard for everyone because it represents letting go of the past. And the past is a commodity that few people are willing to give up.”

Hyoga nodded feeling at ease. He knew that this had been the problem all along, because his fear resided in his past and in his unwillingness to let go of it. To be detached from it. Still even if he was just beginning to reconcile this, he or anyone for that matter, could not deny that their past defined them.

There was really no possible answer to this riddle.

He looked at Shun not knowing how to express this so it wouldn’t sound as a mere excuse.

“But how can anyone let go of their past Shun?” he asked in a whisper. “It seems like an impossible task to do. For me anyway...”

“Hyoga...” Shun approached him and placed his hands on both shoulders “The answer you are looking for, is: assist the new without sacrificing the old. Only like that you’ll see that life is _just_ a road that only leads to yourself. Not to misery, or disaster like you thought, but to the ultimate discovery of who you _really_ are. That is the purpose of life itself.”

“Yes.” Hyoga said nodding, more to himself than to Shun as if his sole agreement would reaffirm his position and choices and would finally break the inevitable struggle, within the two choices that had always haunted him: the future and the past.

 _It was worth a try._

“What should I do?” He asked in a whisper, feeling eagerness already taking over him.

Shun just shook his head offering him nothing but a sympathetic smile. “I can’t tell you that. It’s only for you to decide, but as long as you are honest with yourself about what you want, nothing can go wrong...”

Hyoga sighed, smiling briefly.

Behind them the box that contained the Aquarius cloth glistened with the rays of light that filtered through the little window that was above them.


	7. Sunday

It was almost dawn when Milo left his temple.

He pushed his way forward through the crowd of people that gathered near the Dypilon Gate, waiting for the procession to start.

Milo had thought at some point that people would find the idea of taking part in a religious celebration tedious. After all despite the ornaments of fresh picked flowers that hung from every column and the promise of a well earned hang over, _it was_ a commemoration done for their Goddess, where all of them would be reaffirming not only their vows to the order  but also acquiring a stronger sense of duty, which up to this point was something that most of they had been lacking entirely.

On the contrary, everyone looked happy. There was anticipation in the air, and all the people looked every once in a while in the direction of the Great Clock, which would signal the beginning of the celebration when the first blue fire was ignited.

Milo looked around savoring every single little detail of this groundbreaking event, from the beautiful girls who carried the baskets that contained the Plepos, to the animals that were being led by children carrying olive branches on their necks.

He pressed the mortuary box to his side, feeling exited.

He had never seen so many people joined together for one purpose that didn’t involve war. There were musicians, athletes, trainees, staff and Saints alike gathered, casting differences aside, if just for the event, that would go on once they had passed through the Gate, for an entire week.

Certainly a celebration that lasted seven days came as a blessing to him, because up to this point the past six days had been hellish to him. Between Camus’s return and Hyoga’s issues, it all had been a roller coaster of emotions that had had him on the edge, isolated from everyone and everything.

But now he could cast all of it aside and start anew.

This was just the beginning.

He moved forward then to the base of the Gate, where he could see his fellow Saints from afar, who wore, as protocol dictated, full armor.

They were as formed by rank, the Gold Saints being the closest ones next to the Gate, only surpassed on importance by the Skabo, who were carrying gold censors and staffs, forming a barrier and separating the road that lead to the Acropolis in two.

Milo walked through the small group of trainees and the whole group respectfully bowed to him, acknowledging his high rank.

He nodded back and offered them an honest smile, feeling for the very first time in almost 14 years true inner peace. The feeling of uncertainty, as far the Holy Land was concerned, was gone.  The Sanctuary had a purpose again.

As soon as he reached the group of the remaining Gold Saints, everyone circled him to say hello.

Shaka was the first one to approach him, patting his shoulder, followed by Aioria who grabbed him by the forearm and gave him a big hug.

Milo smiled, returning the gesture amicably, feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the attention he was getting on account of Camus’s return. But he knew it couldn’t be helped-

Even with the differences between them, and the fracture that Saga had brought upon the Order as a whole, they were still a team and hardships and happiness were always shared whether they wanted it or not. Nevertheless, nobody uttered a word about anything when pleasantries were exchanged. Not about Camus, or about what was happening and Milo guessed it was because words would not suffice, to express what they all were feeling.

Milo sighed, offering them a smile, looking past the shoulder of whoever approached him to see if Hyoga was around. He wanted to talk to him about what had happened last night at least to sort things out between them before Camus returned.

But he wasn’t anywhere around.

With the corner of his eye he caught the glimpse of a blond guy, who was walking nonchalantly wearing regular clothes and pushing his way through the crowd to where he was. He focused his attention on him completely, dismissing Shaina who had just approached him.

The Bronze Saints had arrived and Hyoga was among them, drawing the attention from everyone around them. However, unlike his brothers, Hyoga wasn’t wearing either of his holy cloths, but plain civilian clothes.

Milo didn’t know how to react, as he saw Hyoga leaning forward taking into his hands part of the chain of the Andromeda Cloth, completely mesmerized at the touch of it and at how the chain glistened in the first rays of light.

And it was not the lack of metal what shocked him, but the backpack that was hanging from Hyoga’s shoulder. A backpack that Milo knew had accompanied him through out all his travels.

He was leaving after all.

Milo couldn’t help to look directly at him feeling a sudden rush of anger _. It’s really fucking unbelievable_.

But it all went away as soon as Hyoga turned around and waved back at him.

And it was not the gesture that soothed him down but the way in which Hyoga did it; very nonchalant and carefree, as if there was nothing to get upset for. Then he returned his attention to his brothers, as if he were just a mere tourist trying to have a sneak peek of the ancient celebration who just ran into an old friend.

And perhaps that was precisely what was going on.

 _Hyoga is now in another world that is entirely his own._

Milo recognized this, feeling a warmth in his heart, finally understanding everything.  Hyoga was leaving because his world had no room for the Santuary anymore. This time however, he was certain that it was not out of fear that he was going away.

Not because he had been ordered to, or pointed towards the exit like in the past.

On the contrary Hyoga was choosing this by himself, leaving what defined him forcefully behind, being for the very first time _free_.

He didn’t know what had happened when he left the Aquarius temple, but he was certain that Shun had something to do with it, because they were chatting among themselves about a trip.  Milo couldn’t catch the details entirely, due to the noisy crowd that surrounded them.

Milo wished he could accompany him and witness with his own eyes what Hyoga would become, but he couldn’t. Not because he wasn’t allowed to, but because he chose not to. Just like he chose to sleep with him, and became a part of Hyoga’s youth.

Just like he chose not to hold him because he cared about him, as Camus did profoundly, as a student, when he sacrificed his life in order to teach him something.

But Milo wasn’t really sacrificing anything because he knew, even if it hurt to see him go, that that was not the ending but only the beginning of something greater.

If anything he wanted to regard it as a mere pause. Maybe Hyoga would return to him someday, if the timing was right.

At least he felt content to have helped him, which had been his main aim when he befriended him, regardless of the outcome.  
Milo smiled widely, feeling satisfied with himself, turning around to see Shaina who was stroking his arm supportively.

He wanted to go and approach Hyoga,

Milo knew, that as a civilian, he would not be able to complete the procession with them, as there were parts prohibited to outsiders. There was no knowing what Athena had ordered, but even if she granted Hyoga access, Milo was certain that the party would push them apart.

At least he wanted to tell him a last goodbye before he left.  No reprimands, or retaliation from their last argument. Just a heartfelt goodbye.

He couldn’t, though.

Behind him, the crowd roared as the Clock of the Twelve temples showed the first blue fire ignited.

The celebration had begun.

 **THE END.**


End file.
